A closer look at Mark Cohen, or something like it
by hyperleo01
Summary: The actual title is 'A cunning look at the in depth psyche of Mark Cohen or something like it', but it wouldn't fit. Well, PreRENT, both movie and play...about how Mark enters the scene...um...that's it, I think. Read, yes? Review, too, yes?
1. Mark Cohen, homeless dude

I have to go Owwwwoooooooo...damn, actually, that hurt...I don't think I wanna do that anymore...oh, I have to? Every night?...damn...well... That sucks. 

By hyperleo03 (sorry I'm not renthead010101 or Marksbabe11 ...mostly becuase a-Mark will never have a babe..he's too much like my brother-who's married...um..and b-because if you're 11, it's sick to be Marks babe...or any of the guys from Rent's babe...damn...go take a cold shower or something...geez..)

Oh, yeah...disclaimer part, huh? I'm a bit random, and you know what? Don't care...hah! Disclaimer- I am not dead, nor am I a guy. I am Jewish though. Two out of three still means that I am not Jonathan Larson though. And hey, don't start with the "well, maybe Jonathan Larson faked his death" Tupac-ish stuff...it's creepy.

PS- To all those readers from New Mexico, can you run over to the airport and slap a girl ticket-person from Delta? She had the nerve to argue with me that Jonathan Larson was from Albequerque...

OK, I know...on with the story. I SHALL BEGIN!

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This story is called:  
THAT SUCKS-but because fanfiction doesn't allow titles to say a word like "SUCKS"...even though...it's Rent..well, anyways.  
The NEW title of this story is:  
A cunning look at the in-depth psyche of Mark Cohen-...or something like it.  
by me

It is December 24th. 8 PM. Eastern Standard Time. And Mark Cohen is sitting. In an alleyway. In between Avenue A and ...whatever's next to Avenue A. Avenue B, I imagine. How did he end up here on such a glorious Christmas eve, you all ask? Why isn't he indoors, watching the snow fall down like little white cotton balls coming from a sky full of blue...and grey...and a little purple in the horizon...with that dab of black that means that-

Oh, am I rambling? Sorry, didn't notice. So, why isn't Mark nice and cozy, staring at his Christmas tree and all the presents underneath it.

Well, for one thing...Mark's Jewish. No Christmas here. Move on Santa, because you are just trespassing on his ...er...lot.

But for the whole lougning around on the pavement thing..well, boys and girls...for that, you'll just have to ask Mark.

Mark's Point of View...I know, this will be a POV fic...get over it.

I happen to be shooting one of my epic films. It's gonna be amazing. Let me tell you all about it.

No, I won't put you through that torture...actually...I'm not filming at all!

Nope, I am sitting here, lighting those Hannukah Candles...on the hotplate that I got from my mother. Worst thing is, it's not even plugged in...I'm just lighting candles on my mothers hotplate..well...technically, it is mine. See, this is the third hotplate she's sent me in about...2 years. For the past two years-actually...until...yesterday-I was at Brown...but not anymore! Nope, after this...well...something happened. So, I gladly dropped out, grabbed my camera, about five shirts (they're all the exact same thing...kinda like those cartoons on Nickelodeon...those cartoon's rock...), the hotplates, and left. Left for good. I'm not going home-really, don't wanna go back. And I'm definately done with Brown University. What kind of name is that for a college anyways? Brown! Come on, people, at least name it something with a little more flash. Like...fushia! Or Turquoise. I like turquoise. Yeah...Turqoiuse University. A little more pizazz, don't ya think?

Well, anyways, so I moved as far away as I could from the high-life-silver-spoon-three-piece-suit-wearing-fathers-from-leave-it-to-beaver-superbia with their picket fences and their perfect little Jewish girls. I'm really sick of Jewish girls. Get me a German or something, because at this point, Jewish girls do nothing for me. Actually...at this point, girls in general do nothing for me. Hell, I'm thinking of becoming a monk. It's cold outside, and I'm broke. But being a monk would not exactly be "following the faith" or anything...well, I should tell you where I am.

Think of what's the opposite, people...it's really not that hard...got it? Oh yeah, New York City. City of culture and sophistication...and dragqueens...and some guy over there who looks like he's going to kill me for my hotplate.

...Damn, I'm not that far from the truth, am I...oh shit, he's coming towards me.

See, at this point, I should probably run for my life.

But I'm weak and scrawny on top of being Jewish...my life is just a general fuck-up, really.

So, I stay here, in the little corner I've arranged for myself...and proceed to get beaten up.

A punch to the head, one to the stomach...nothing worse than my 5th grade memories at grand old Scarsdale Elementary, really.

...BUT DAMN! OK, is it just me, or does getting hit in the groin hurt more when your nuts have dropped!

DAMN, THAT HURT! Oh yeah...not having children anytime soon...damn...ouch.

After about ...10 seconds more of this _HORRIBLE_, **AGONIZING**, pleasant punch to the genitals, I gladly black out.

...fuzzy purple elephants...hehe, so people actually see things when they get hit on the head? That's pretty cool...killer headache, though...OWWW! NOT AS MUCH AS ANOTHER PART!

"Ouch...my poor...damn...what...oh ye...ouch...ok...having kids is out...and it's not like I'm ever gonna adopt, so...no kids for Marky...damn"

"Hey kid...don't dis adoption." What the hell was that? Scary guy still here? I then realize that my eyes are still closed, and proceed to open my eyes. Or at least, one of them. The other one seems to have been glued to my nose...you know, the thing big enough to land an airplane by itself in between my glasses and my retainer-that I haven't used since I was 15.

I look up and see a light...a bright light...hey, am I going to heaven?

Then I pull myself up, look around and realize that I'm still in New York...damn.

"Hey, kid...you alright?" Why do people ask this obvious question. If I'm sitting here...groaning, and bleeding all over the floor...does it look like I'm ok?

"Um..."

"Yeah, I know. Dumb question. Let me help you up, at least." Nice guy? Or is he just going to stab me when he picks me up? Maybe he's a vampire and he's going to suck my blood or something...hey, that's a pretty cool idea for a movie...Dracula-in da City!

Anyways, that's when I get a good look at the guy who just helped me get up and who is now moving me toward a building...or at least, another wall. It doesn't look quite finished yet...but hey, what do I know?

"You're pretty bad off...new in the city, huh?"

"Yeah..." I manage to mumble as I take him in. He's...well...he looks a little like a Ken doll, to tell you the exact truth. Platinum blonde...there's nothing else I can say about him. I mean, I don't usually go around and start describing men off the streets...yes, so Kevin over here is five foot two, brown hair with a streak of red in it and is roughly 215 pounds. Twice the weight of me...well, one and half...but close enough.

"Well, I'll bring you up to my place." You're place...wait, what?

"What" Um...rape? Anyone? Um...ok, I might be new and all, but I really don't think this is supposed to happen...anyone? Hello?

"You in my apartment. Shirt off. All sexy." Shit in a mother fucking cup... For the first few seconds, I seriously think about faliling about until he drops me (he is officially carrying me at this point) until I realize that he's laughing his head off at me.

"Nice guy. You're a real nice guy" I mutter. Bad move.

**FLUMP!**

"Oww..." I whine, as he drops me on a landing. "Good thing that was a landing..." Don't ask me why I'm playing around with the stranger like he's my best friend. I'm not in the mood to be polite, or serious.

"Oops. Sorry." But he doesn't sound sorry at all.

"You don't sound sorry"

"Eh, it's a New Yorker thing." he says, picking me back up and walking up some more stairs.

"So...stranger...what's your name?" I say, getting more into this 'saved by a knight in shining armour' by the second.

"Roger. And you're...Marky, right?" He says, getting quite an odd look from me.

"How do you..." I ask, wondering how the hell he knows my name.

'"_Adoption sucks...no kids for Marky._'" he's mimicking me, but it gets a smile from me-oddly enough. "You were practically shouting it out for all of the state to hear"

"Humph" I...er...humph...as we apparently reach the top, because at this point, Roger starts trying to hold me and get his keys.

Needless to say, he fails miserably as, once again, I'm on the floor.

"Wow, you really suck at this whole carrying thing, don't you." I say, attempting to stand up on my own. Doesn't work.

"You're not exactly a pixie, you know." He says, getting the keys, hoisting me up by my arm and dragging me into his apartment, hurting me more and more.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow" I say as I am dragged in front of a couch. I look around at the apartment and see; a couch, a table, and...a toilet in the kitchen?

"Look what the cat dragged in. Literally." A big black dude says, laughing at us...me...him...I dunno. I don't even know these people.

"Hey. He was hurt. You know me. Sensative soul." Roger replies, being obviously sarcastic with every word he says.

"Please. You want to kick Maureen out by bringing this kid in. Well, it won't work. I'm telling you right now. She has a job and money, something neither of us seem to hold. Therefore, she stays."This man was laughing the whole time. With a joint in his hand. I have to say, my first sight of a pothead and...I like him.

"Maureen got a job?" Roger looks surprised. Uh oh...does this mean I'm on the street again? Personally, I didn't even know I was going to be involved in this 'housing' situation. Come on...I just came from Rhode Island like...three hours ago.

"Yeah...look, Roger, if you are gonna drag a stranger out from the street, at least clean him up and tell me his name..." The cool guy says, lifting me up and putting me on the couch.

"Mark. I'm Mark." I interject, seeing as I don't want to be known as 'Marky' for the rest of my life, "and I might not have much...money, clothes...anything...but I do have a big heart." They are about to start laughing at me and kick me out...I know this, so I grin (attempt to, at least..because I seriously hurt...everywhere.), "I also have this great hotplate!" Down to two hotplates. Random homeless guy took one, you see. But if you do some simple math, carry the one and do the matrix here, you get that I have two left.

"OK, Mark...sit up a bit so we can clean you up, and tell us a little more about you...I'm Collins, by the way." Mr. Cool says, getting a wet paper towel.

Tell you something about me? This should be fun...

* * *

Yeah...so, that was fun to write. Was it fun to read? Tell me...please? 


	2. Miss Muffy and Maureen

And I'm Back for round two. God help me.

* * *

Chapter two- Miss Muffy and Maureen 

When Collins asked me about myself, I knew he was going to be in trouble. See, asking me about myself is a lot like reading the Bible. It's boring, long, and while 95 percent of people say they're interested, most of them are just pretending to listen. But hey, my motto is, if you're going to ask, you're going to hear the answer...so I told them...pretty much my life story.

"And then, in 10th grade, Nanette Himmelfarb came to school wearing the most provacative thing we had ever seen..." I continued, laughing at the faces Collins and Roger were making. They were bored out of their minds...I love tortunring people. But, at this news about young Nanette, (by the way, Nanette Himmelfarb is the Rabbi's daughter...she looks like a boy with frizzy triangular hair and a beanie on her head...she has never worn anything provacative in her life-but don't tell them that!) their ears perked up.

"Oh yeah? Do tell." Roger said. Collins looked amused, but stayed silent.

"A red beanie." I said, smugly, and Roger's face dropped like a sack of potatoes.

"You're kidding, right?" Collins said, not even trying to hold in his laughter.

"No...man, she was hot..." I said, going on with my story.

"Wait, I didn't know that girls wore those beanie things...I thought that was a male thing." Collins interjected.

"Um...well...ok, if you wanna know the truth, not one word of what you've been hearing is actually true.." I replied, both sheepish (BAAA!) and proud at the same time...if that's even possible. (Yeah, I know, you can tell them that she's not sexy now...eh, a filmaker must take credit for his work)

"Really..." Collins said, massaging his chin. Roger, on the other hand, was a little less silent about it.

"**THANK GOD!**" He blurted out. "I was so worried that you were the most boring piece of shit on earth." What? Damn, boy is offending me.

"I will take offense to that, you know." "Yeah, yeah..well, for making us sit through that, you deserve..." Roger replied, but trailed off as a girl walked into the apartment.

..A DAMN SEXY GIRL!

_DAYUM! _...Now, considering that I am a geeky, dorky, all-around freakishly Jewish-looking boy from the suburbs, you must admit- I can talk the talk...er...think the think? Think the thoughts? OK, anyways, I have the best vocabulary. Ever.

"Hi, Roger, Collins, Benn...wait, you're not Benny..." She said, doing a double take because I'm not this Benny guy.

"...Nope. But if he were Benny, I would say that he has quite the pigment problem..." Collins said, laughing.

"What? What is a pigment problem? Oh, whatever. Hi. I'm Maureen. I am the working girl of the loft. Are you Collins' new boy? Or Roger's new drummer?" She asked...wait, Collins? I looked dubiously (I do love that word) at him and he shrugged. Hehe...my first gay boy (Hey! I'm from Scarsdale! Leave me alone!)...gotta say, Chaim Miller was wrong...you can't tell at all.

-wait...did this girl just ask what a pigment problem was?

"Neither _Reeney_." Roger said, saying her name quite rudely in my opinion-which usually counts for squat, but I think my opinions are worth something, so it doesn't...ok, getting off track. Roger apparently didn't like this girl. Although, I can't really see why..she might not be a MENSA candidate anytime soon, but she's hot. "He's the new roommate." Wait, what? When was I notified that I was indeed staying here? I mean, I would like to...but no one informed me of the decision! Can we inform Mark about these things, please? I would rather have control over my life...that's why I left Brown...you know, I still think that's a horrible name for a University.

"Staying here? Do we know anything about him? References? Is he going to pull some weight around here, or is like you two slackers...and we already have four people here, can we really fit another one? How do we know he's not going to flake out on us like the other 22 roommates have before you? You know, I really don't like not being notified about these things! I work so that you-" oh no...she's going to start yelling now, isn't she? "can eat and take warm showers. And I'm always getting hit on and getting extra tips just so that-" and there's the yelling...damn... "some perverted prick can get his fucking groove on, and here I am, getting the shaft for this...obvious fashion reject. I mean, that's why he's here, isn't he? To kick me out! I can not believe you're letting him do that, Collins! I thought you had more respect for people than that! I don't need"

"OK, Maureen, time for you to shut up." another guy said, walking in the front door. "Miss Muffy just complained that she can hear you all the way across the street in her lavish apartment." "Do you know who this is?" Maureen said, motioning to me. I just kinda sat there...and waved...like a dork...who's Miss Muffy? Who is this guy? I looked over at Roger and he mouthed to me the word 'Benny'... it could have been Penny...but I really doubt that this guy is named Penny...or Jenny...well, anyways. It was probably Benny. And that will be his name until I find out what it really is.

"No...but does is really matter?" Benny said, putting his coat down on the couch and walking into another area of the loft.

"HE'S THE NEW ROOMMATE!" Maureen screeched. And, let me tell you, she is woman...hear her roar.

All of a sudden, it looked like someone rewound the scene. Benny came backwards, looked at me, and then at Collins.

"We were looking for a new guy?" He said. "When was I to be informed." Not so much a question as a ponderance...a wondering of why he wasn't in the loop, but apparently, it didn't mean thatmuch to him.

"Same thing I said!" Jeez...Maureen...down a couple notches. It came time for me to say something.

"Hey, can I say something?" I said, and everyone magically shut up. Now, that has never happened before...so, that was kinda weird.  
"OK...thanks...so...look...it's my first night in the city. I just dropped out of Brown University-worst name for a University ever, by the way-and came here looking to put some adventure in my life. Unfortunately, my adventure came in the form of some asshole beating me up for a hotplate, but I still have two left. Hotplates...long story. Anyways, Roger found me on the street, and helped me up here to clean me up a bit. That's it. I never asked for a place, nor was anyone looking for a roommate. I just happened to be here. OK? So, if you want me gone, I'm gone. Just say the word." And that was the longest freakin' speech I ever made in my goddamned life. Including my bar-mitzvah...which is an event that shall NOT be recovered, no matter how funny it might be.

"Word." Maureen said, being very rude herself. I really didn't expect that, and it must have showed on my face, because Roger burst out laughing at that one.

"She's just joking." Collins said, elbowing Maureen in the stomach as she was about to protest. "We'd be happy to have you here, especially becuase you _have no place to go_." He said the last few words to put Maureen in her place, it seemed like, and she blinked a bit, shook her head and sighed.

"Well...welcome, stranger." Maureen said, putting on a smile.

"What's your name again?" Benny asked, holding his hand out to be shook.

"Mark. Mark Cohen." I said, attempting to stand up again, but that didn't work out so well.

"Well, Mark. I'm Benny." YEAH! I WAS RIGHT! "And it looks like you've sprained that ankle. Did Roger the doofus over here wrap it for you.

"No..." I said, wondering how Roger would react to being called a doofus. I haven't heard the word 'doofus' since I was like...twelve.

"Doofus? Is that the worst you could come up with?" Roger said, laughing. "I could take you"

"You could try. But you would lose." Benny said, grinning. "So, Mark...any questions about the place"

"Um...who's Miss Muffy?" I asked, not knowing that I was about to be told about the one girl who could break this little group of friends that I was suddenly thrust into apart.

* * *

Well...once again, fun to write.  
Please review. It's fun to write when people like what you're writing. It's a self-esteem thing.  
Oh, a couple of things. One, Pigment problem is actually a pretty hard phrase. Many people do not know what it means. So, don't take offense that Mark thinks Maureen's dumb because she didn't know. I just didn't know what else to write, and often, when I write these POV shit pieces that I love so much, I often write what my brain comes up with...that's why it's so sucky! And I officially copywright "shit in a cup" as my own creation. It's evolved from "crap on a stick"...which I think was some gross but foriegn food that I thought was the best phrase ever for like...six months. 

OK, later gators!  
hyperleo!


	3. Movies, Film, what's the difference?

Seriously people. I like reviews. So...let's keep 'em comin'! Please? You do NOT want to see me beg...I am incredibly bad at the puppy dog face, so I often revert to the "bother bother bother" shit... 

Anyways, here's chapter three. It might suck, it might not. But you should tell me. OK?

* * *

Chapter three- Film, Movies, what's the difference? 

"Miss Muffy?" Collins asked, after he and the rest of these odd people stopped laughing. "Um...Benny...you hate her most, you should probably tell him."

"Miss Muffy is the worst yuppie scum you will ever lay eyes on. She comes over here about once a month in these incredibly expensive suits with pearls, diamonds, hell I think she may have been wearing the Crown Jewels once, everything given to her on a silver platter..." at this point, Roger excuses himself to use the 'potty', and (THANK GOD), goes in the opposite direction of the kitchen... "anyways, Muffy comes around and threatens us with eviction if we don't pay the rent within 10 seconds. You have to have the check ready, or she kicks you out of the place. And believe me, for being that rich, this place is a fucking joke."

Apparently, Benny has some issues with Muffy...who names their child Muffy, anyways?

"So...she's the landlady?" I ask, not quite understanding why Benny hates this woman with a passion..

"No. She's the landlord's daughter. And Benny hates her attitude, not anything else." Collins says, laughing a bit more at Benny.

"I always hope she gets mugged on her way out, wearing that jewlery just to point out that we can't afford it..." Maureen adds, fingering her thread and beads necklace that she has on. To be honest, the necklace...eh...but watching her _finger _it...HELL YEAH!

I, very smartly, keep this thought to myself and ask why there is a toilet in the kitchen.

"I'm guessing the previous owners tore down the wall that used to connect the kitchen to the bathroom, but couldn't remove the toilet." Collins says, and then adds "it was a smart move, really. I mean...first of all, more room...second...if you ever need to puke after eating one of Maureen's meals, it's pretty close by." He takes a hit, in more ways than one, mostly becuase Maureen smacked him upside the head as he was smoking.

"So...Mark, what do you do?" Roger says, sitting on the chair next to the sofa. "I mean, we got your whole...well, we didnt get much from you, did we? Except for some fake story, the fact that you dropped out of Brown and have two hotplates to warm our non-existant food."

"Mostly becuase whenever we have food, Maureen uses all of it to create a casserole." Collins adds.

"Please. Stop exaggerating." Maureen says, making a face. "We have cereal, bread and pasta all the time. And milk."

"Yeah, and when we run low, what do we get? A-wait, what was it called again, Maureen?" Roger says, looking at me as if to tell me that I need to pay attention to this next part.

"...A carb-erolle...you know, if you don't like it, you don't need to eat it." Maureen says, sticking her tongue out at Roger.

"Maureen, have you ever tasted that shit?" Roger asked, "I mean, come on, _Reeney_, it tastes like cardboard...only slimy and filled with worms...Mark, the stuff is Captain Crunch, spaghetti and bread...it's all just mixed together...and packed in with water..."

"Don't call me Reeney." Maureen says with clenched teeth. "And you might not like it, but I'm sure that Collins and Benny like it." She then looks over at them, obviously expecting something other than disgust...all I can say is..poor Maureen.

Benny violently shakes his head while waving his arms in front of his face...and (of course) laughing.

"Oh no, don't drag my ass into this...you know I'm strictly against anything where bread and water get mixed. It's a jail thing." Collins says-hold on a second...JAIL!

"You were in..?" I said, apparently looking a tad too surprised, becuase all of a sudden, everyone was laughing at me again...people like to laugh at me, apparently.

"Yeah...I attempted to stage a coup de' etat at M.I.T...they kicked me out after finding out I was HIV positive...stupid ignorant freaks..." meh? What's this? HIV? I'd heard of it, it was in all the newspapers, but I never knew it actually infected real people...very stupid of me, now that I look back, but once again, Superbia boy...I'm going to milk that excuse until it no longer applies, by the way. "Well...actually, I might have gotten the boot after...I can't really remember...but Ikinda...made their virtual reality equipment self-distruct...it was pretty funny actually. All these geeks with thick glasses" I fixed my glasses at this point, "and their shirts tucked into their pants" yeah..attempted to pull my shirt out of my pants now... "were trying to stop the smoking and all they got was the same message; ACTUAL REALITY, ACT UP! FIGHT AIDS!"

Feeling very geeky and MIT-like, I took off my glasses to clean them...yeah...I was..._cleaning_ them...and listened to Roger as he continued Collins' thought.

"That's actually why he's here in New York, ain't that right, Collins?" he said, waiting for Collins to nod before proceeding, "what was it, two, three years ago? Well, Collins came here to dear old Manhattan, and looked for an apartment. I happened to inherit one from my dear old uncle, who used to sublet it out to people around here...I was raised in White Plains, which is like...20 seconds away from here, no joke. So, I moved in, found Collins and we just clicked." Roger thought about this for a minute or two, and then looked at me again. "So, Mark, you never really answered my question. What do you do?"

What do I do? Hm...well...ok, if this were a Broadway musical, I would randomly burst out into song at this point...and I kinda feel like singing...but I'm a horrible singer, this is not a Broadway musical (damn...how boring would this be as a musical? Who the hell would come and see a musical like this?), and last but not least...um...well, I don't have a third point, but these things always need to have three points...so I'll just say that I can't sing again. OK? Forgive my lack of creativity. It's why all my screenplays suck. Oh yeah, question asked. I should probably answer.

"I'm a filmmaker. I make films." I say, smiling palely. I then look at the camera next to me... "Why else would I have a camera with me?"

"Um...it's called tourism." Roger said, raising his eyebrows. "So, what kind of movies do you make?"

"I don't make movies. I make films. Documentaries, really." I said. I hate it when people mistake movies for films.

"What's the difference?" Benny said, finally speaking up. Is it just me, or has Benny not said anything for like...20 minutes?

"Movies are thos idiotic things that people pay money to watch, even though they have no content, no serious thought into them, and there is not one bit of technique. Any asshole can call himself a director of movies. For instance, there has never been nor will there ever be a pornographic film...I just don't see Mike Nichols panning left on a girl's..." I'll leave what Mike Nichols would be panning left to the imagination...but I just wanted to get my thoughts out there...eh.

"Who's Mike Nichols?" Maureen asked, looking slighting interested. Of course, by slightly interested, I mean that she's bored, but she doesn't wanna show it.

"Mike Nichols?" They don't know who Mike Nichols is...damn... "He's an amazing director! He's directed tons of great stuff." Maureen still looked confused, so I decided to give her an example. "He directed 'The Graduate'...ever heard of that one?" OK, I was being sarcastic...what? Do you blame me?

"I think so...isn't that the movie where the boy sleeps with a girl and her mother or something?" Maureen said, biting her bottom lip. Gotta say, she's pretty damn cute when she does that.

"Yes. That's it. You ever seen it?" I asked, looking around for takers.

"Nope..." Benny, Roger, Maureen and Collins all say at the same time.

"What? Really? You've never seen 'The Graduate'?" This is nuts. They all shake their heads again, leaving me in almost shock. Who hasn't seen the greats of film! "OK, how about...Amadeus?" More nods...what? It won the freakin' Oscar, people! "You had to have seen Bladerunner!" More shaking of the head! "ET? Indiana Jones? Star Wars? Don't you go to movies?"

"Hey, don't get all huffy...I think I saw ET..." Benny said. "And I definately saw Star Wars. That was the shit. I just haven't seen a movie-oh, I'm so sorry-_film_, in a couple years..."

"I saw Indiana Jones." Roger said, "I even got that hat. Becuase that hat...man, it's just a great hat." He ran somewhere and came out with-Lord and Behold-the hat.

"And hey, I see films, or whatever you say. I even _act_ in some films." Maureen said, getting all defensive.

"Maureen..." Roger said, and I smile, knowing that Roger will in some way, get Maureen...it's sad, isn't it? I've known these people for like...5 hours, and I already know that Roger will piss off Maureen again...doesn't take long to figure that one out...

"What?" She says, looking over at Roger.

"Believe me. That wasn't a film." Maureen scowls, "In fact, you weren't even acting..."

"What?"

"Yeah, Maureen..didn't you hear what I said?" I had to join in. The opportunity was there...I wasn't even sure on my facts, but it needed to be said. "Pornos don't count."

Maureen screamed something about me being the same as the others, ran into ...some room, and slammed the door. Roger and Benny just started sniggering while Collins grabbed my head and said, "Yeah...you'll fit in just fine around here..."

I sure hope so. Becuase this seems like a fun-ass place to live.

* * *

Another chapter finished, and if I get reviews, I promise you that the next chapter will not be in the same night. I think three chapters ought to cover one night, don't you? It's like a real-time movie right here...kinda like watching a season of 24...is anyone else hooked on that show? I got the dvd's for the fourth season and literally spent 24 hours within three days watching the entire series... 

I know, I'm a dork. Get over it. P

hyperleo


	4. For Better or Worse

Duh duh duh duh duh duh duhhhhhhh! Here's chapter 4, becuase i KNOW you have all been missing my writing...hehehe. I know, I know, shut up and write...geesh, I would think you should like my random diatribe here...hostile audiences, you all are.

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For better and worse...

"Yo, Mark...get up!" A voice yelled at me. I am still on the couch. It's been a few weeks, but there aren't exactly matressess loitering around in the street, now are there? And before you come up with some funny story about a matress, a Godfather and a queensize bed sheet walking into a bar, don't. I've heard them all.

And no, you don't want to hear them. They all SUCK ASS!

Anyways, back to the story.

"TIME TO GET UP! IT'S TIME! OH OH OH YEAH IT'S TIME!" Roger, or as I've affectionately dubbed him, O Lord Annoying, has created the habit of "rapping" in my face to wake me up. I'm guessing it's a way to make him "cooler" than me, but with his looks and that rapping, he looks a little like a Beastie Boy on crack...er...on more crack.

Hehehe, I love my wit sometimes. It's so...witty.

"Get off, Roger. For the last time, no means no!" I joke as I push the rapping Roger off of me. Hm...Rapping Roger...sounds like a spinoff of Roger Rabbit.

"I don't want to fuck." Roger said, laughing like crazy, "I just want to cuddle." And before you think it, we're not sleeping together. We will never go out because we likies the girlies. Don't worry. He just likes to joke.

"When was the last time you got together with a girl?" I joke around, attempting to find my glasses somewhere around me. Maybe Roger knocked them to the floor.

"As a matter of fact, there is one in my room." He smirks, and I roll my eyes while looking for my glasses upside down. I eventually give up and sit back up and what do you know, Roger is holding my glasses in his hand. "Yeah...right..." I say, putting on the glasses. Roger shrugs and goes into his room. He then comes out with a girl.

"God freakin' dammit, Roger. I was on the freakin' couch! How did you get her in here. Hi, by the way." I say, nodding my salutations to the girl. She's fairly hot, not so much as a certain roomie of mine (a FEMALE roomie, you dumbasses), but hot none-the-less.

"Hi." She gets in one word until Collins walks to the kitchen to make himself some coffee.

"Hi Roger, Roger's latest fuck. I imagine your night was quite...well...loud if I may be honest." How the fuck did I sleep through this!

"What?" Ooh damn, girl does not look happy. She stares at Roger for a second, asks him something along the lines of the "rock star life" and violating her, and abruptly leaves.

"Collins, that was uncalled for..." Roger said, much grumpier now that the girl has left.

"Right...well, you fuck more than Roger Rabbit, I'm sure you're going to find another girl soon." He replied, looking for coffee beans or something equivalent. "We're out of coffee." Hehehe...more Roger Rabbit jokes...wait, what?

"We're what?" I ask, hoping for it not to be true. I want my coffee, man. Without my coffee, I might go crazy.

"Out. Of. Coffee. And we need Benny's check this month to pay the rent." Collins sighed.

"What about Maureen? And her job?" Roger asked. She worked as a waitress at the Life Cafe.

"Didn't you hear?" Collins said, and I giggled silently. I had heard alright. Turns out that, yesterday, Maureen was supposed to serve these absolute shmucks at the cafe, and they pissed her off a little too much. So, instead of complaining, or spitting in their food like normal people would do, Maureen decides to...well, she-"Maureen mooned Miss Muffy's father last night at the Life Cafe"

"She moo-?" Roger started, but it wasn't over yet.

"And flashed them. In fact, hell, knowing Maureen, she probably took off all of her clothes, smothered herself in chocolate and told Mr. Grey that she was one of them now..." Collins joked around. When neither of us got it, he smirked and said, "-a fake person of color? Jesus, I live with two idiots"

Woah, that joke was distasteful. Damn...I had to blink for a few seconds to get the bad taste out my mouth from that joke... "That joke was bad, Collins." I said, as Roger stood there, contemplating Maureen mooning their landlord. And the consequences.

"Are we gonna get kicked out of here?" Roger asked, eventually.

"Well, we should probably keep her away from Miss Muffy or her father for the time being. But I don't see how he would kick all of us out for her stupidity." Collins said, but he didn't look too sure.

"Should we kick Maureen out, just in case?" Roger asked, hoping for a chance to kick Maureen out of the apartment. He never misses an opportunity to do this, as rude as it seems. And as hot as she is...I really don't know why he hates her so much. She hasn't done anything to anyone here...in the time that I've been here...which has been...all of three weeks. You know, maybe I should check my background information on people before making assumptions in my head about them.

"Mark, I know she's hot, but believe me, she's a bitch. She's like one of those spiders that kill all their children...and eat their husbands." What? I didn't say a word! I did not make the assumption out loud! Just wanted to say that before anyone tried to blame me for something.

"Black Widows...and they don't have husbands you freakin' idiot!" Collins said, laughing at Roger.

"No husband? Then who do they make the baby with?" Roger asks stupidly. Obviously, Roger was never the smartest crayon in the box...how does that phrase make any sense, anyways?

"OK, where's the coffee..." I said, forgetting the horrors of New York for one second.

"There IS no coffee, imbacile." Oh no...the horrors of New York have returned.

"Well, we could buy some coffee." I like that idea, Collins! Good idea, Collins! "-But then, on Tuesday, we get kicked out for being 2 dollars and 65 cents short." What? Can't we just...pay that later?

"Why do we not have 3 dollars spare?" I ask, trying to figure out how we can get this money.

"No job, no money." Collins said, and stares at Roger.

"What? I work at the club...just not...lately"

"Yeah, where's The Band, Roger?" Collins asked. Yeah, I know. No one is stupid enough to call their band 'The Band'...except for Roger.

"They're on vacation." "What? For three months? Roger, admit it, The Band is gone"

"The Band is not gone! They are just on hiatus as they finish their winter album in spanish!" He pretended to cry at this point, hoping Collins would just laugh and go on about his conversations. But Collins was grumpy, a coffee addict without his coffee. So was I, mind you, but I have about...20 minutes before I start going through withdrawal. Thirty if I'm lucky.

"You need to get a real job!" Collins said, making Roger stop crying and look at Collins angrily.

"I'm a musician. I will not be a janitor in some public park so that I can support my music. My music will support me. And, I don't see the great philisopher bringing in any flow, huh, Collins? Can you ever keep a job without your anarchist ideals coming into play?" Uh oh, fight...I better just stay out of this. I don't do fights often...I'd rather be the observer than theconfronter.

"Anarchist ide-stop pretending to know what you're talking about! I do not follow the man, it is was I believe in and god dammit, I refuse to bend down and act like the common, ignorant New Yorker who doesn't know the President of the United States from his **ASS**"

"If you can yell about your ideals, then why do you expect me to sell out? Why must I drop my passion and my talent and submit to your will?" Submit to his will? When did Roger get so damn...smart?

"Talent? Passion? ROGER, YOU'RE IN A FUCKING COVER BAND!"

"Just until I write some songs."

"Roger, when was the last time you wrote a song? Hell, when was the last time you played a song"

"Collins, that's-"But Roger got cut off.

"**THAT WASN'T MUSETTA'S WALTZ**!" I almost laughed at this. Becuase it's so true.

"I **LIKE** that song, OK? Is it ok with you that I play classical, beautiful cadences sometimes? Or would you rather I play upside down, and play random notesjust so that I can show that I don't follow the rules?"

"Please, you want to know the truth? You're not a musician. You're a _wannabe_. A fake, bleach-blonde, pluck-your-own-eyebrows, wannabe. And you'll always be a wannabe. You only know one song for god sakes! What do you expect." Collins said this in a low, dangerous voice that should have told Roger to back off...but Roger, as I have learned and will learn time and time again...never backs off.

"And do you want to know the truth, Collins? You're nothing but a poor, black, _gay_ man, a figure, who is going to _die_ very soon. And no one is going to miss you." The words came out, the mouth went shut, and the the brain realized was had been said. But it was too late. Bothe people were FAR too angry with each other to apoplogize, or even to contemplate their anger.

"**MARK! COME ON**!" They both screamed,Roger went to his room, and Collins went out the door.

I just stood there, unable to decide which friend I should console.

So I just stood there, unaware that Roger had turned on my camera that morning to surprise me, becuase I had officially been in the loft for one month.

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The end...of that chapter!  
Ha, review. I swear, you better review. Or else. I want those damn reviews. You don't seem to know how much self-esteem I really have, I NEED ACCEPTANCE, PEOPLE! REVIEW!  
...pwetty pwease? I'll sing a song for you!  
It's something I wrote two years ago to remember things for a history test by using "What you own" from our beloved Rent. 

When you're living with the Bougoisie In the middle of the century You've got lots of power and money;  
To Prussia, France and Britian loaned.  
For Austria and Russia in the end- The three west powers got some Poland.  
According to Smith-You're what you own!

You know you love it. Review, please.


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